AYASHA'S POV
I watched Koda's retreating back as he followed his father out of the camp, my emotions a storm I couldn't control. Betrayal burned hot in my chest. He had lied to me. Saved me only to ensure I'd be part of this sick game. I wanted to hate him with every fiber of my being.
But the mate bond hummed beneath my skin, unwanted and undeniable.
"The survivors will be escorted to the castle," announced the scarred warrior who had counted us. "Two to a chamber. Do not kill each other when the games are not in session. The Alpha King considers this... unsporting."
A bitter laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. Unsporting. As if any of this had to do with honor or fair play.
The warrior's cold eyes found mine. "Something amusing, Whitewater princess?"
I straightened my spine. "Not at all. Just admiring the Lamia pack's rigid moral code."
His hand twitched toward his sword, but another warrior placed a cautioning hand on his arm. They wouldn't harm us—not yet. We were still valuable pieces in Nahuel's game.
We were led through the forest toward the imposing stone fortress I'd glimpsed yesterday. In daylight, it was even more formidable—gray stone walls rising from the mountainside, bordered by sheer cliffs on three sides. A fortress designed not just to keep enemies out, but to keep prisoners in.
Once inside, servants—or slaves, I couldn't tell which—showed us to bathing chambers where we could wash away the blood and smoke from the night before. I scrubbed my skin raw, as if I could erase not just the dirt but the memory of everything that had happened. The bath water turned gray, then clear again.
Clean clothes had been laid out—simple tunics and leggings that were practical rather than fine. I dressed quickly, not wanting to be vulnerable any longer than necessary.
A servant girl led me through stone corridors to what would be my chamber. The room was spartan at best—two narrow beds, a small window cut into the thick stone, a basin for washing, and a chest for belongings at the foot of each bed. No tapestries softened the harsh stone walls. No rugs covered the cold floor.
I was examining the window. It was too small to escape through, with a sheer drop beyond. That was when the door opened. A tall, raven-haired woman stepped in, her movements precise and controlled.
Pavati of the Blue rivers. The one whose hands had been stained with blood to the elbows.
"So we're to be cellmates," she said, her voice surprisingly melodic. "How... convenient."
I turned to face her fully, keeping my expression neutral. "Not cellmates. Competitors who happen to share sleeping quarters."
Her lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Of course. My mistake." She moved to the bed on the far side of the room, sitting on its edge and smoothing her hands over the rough blanket. "You're Ayasha of Whitewater, correct? I've heard tales of your kingdom's beauty."
"And you're Pavati of Blue River," I replied, watching her carefully. "I know nothing of your territories."
"Few do," she said with a shrug. "We're a small pack, nestled in river valleys to the east. Nothing so grand as Whitewater. But it's home." A shadow crossed her face. "Or it was."
Something in her tone gave me pause. There was genuine grief there, beyond the calculated coldness I'd seen in the camp.
"What happened?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Pavati's eyes met mine, searching. Whatever she found there must have satisfied her, because she continued.
"Nahuel's men came in the night. They burned our crops, poisoned our wells. When my father, our Alpha, challenged Nahuel, they cut him down in front of all of us." Her hands clenched in her lap. "My mother threw herself on his body. They killed her too."
My heart clenched despite my resolve to stay detached. Her story echoed my own too closely.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly.
"Don't be," Pavati replied, her voice suddenly harder. "Pity is dangerous here. It makes you hesitate. And hesitation—" She drew a finger across her throat.
"Is that why you killed last night?" I asked, needing to understand the woman I'd be sleeping mere feet away from.
Pavati's gaze didn't waver. "I did what was necessary to survive. As did you."
"I didn't kill anyone."
"No?" Her eyebrow arched. "Then you were fortunate. Or perhaps..." She tilted her head, studying me with new interest. "Perhaps someone protected you? The Luna of the Desert lands had a Lamia warrior protecting her. Goddess knows why."
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I turned away, moving to my own bed. "No one protected me. I fought my own battles."
"Of course," Pavati said, her tone making it clear she didn't believe me.
Silence fell between us, heavy with unspoken questions. I busied myself arranging the few belongings I had. First was my dagger (which they'd allowed me to keep, strangely), a small pouch containing herbs from home, and the clothes I'd arrived in.
"Do you think any of us will survive this?" Pavati asked suddenly.
The question caught me off guard. There was no calculation in her voice now, just genuine uncertainty.
"One of us has to," I replied. "That's the point of this... contest."
"Is it?" Pavati laughed, the sound hollow. "I'm not so sure. I think Nahuel enjoys watching us tear each other apart. I doubt he cares who wins or if anybody wins at all."
I considered her words. "But his son needs a bride."
"Does he?" Pavati's eyes were knowing. "Have you seen the way the said Prince looks at his father? Like he's barely restraining himself from ripping out the man's throat?"
I hadn't noticed, too caught up in my own shock at discovering Riven's true identity. But now that she mentioned it...
"You're observant," I said carefully.
"I'm still alive." She shrugged. "That requires observation."
I sat on my bed, facing her. "Why are you telling me this? We're not friends. We're not allies. One of us will have to destroy the other eventually."
Pavati's expression softened unexpectedly. "Because I'm tired of being alone with my thoughts. Because you didn't kill when you could have last night. And because—" She hesitated. "Because I saw the prince follow you into the forest."
My blood ran cold. "What?"
"He saved you, didn't he? From that warrior woman who nearly took your head." Pavati's eyes held no judgment, just curiosity. "I was hiding nearby. I saw everything."
I tensed, ready to deny it, to defend myself, but Pavati raised her hands in a placating gesture.
"I'm not your enemy, Ayasha. Not right now, at least." She smiled, and this time it reached her eyes, transforming her severe features into something almost gentle. "We're pawns in the same game, you and I. Fighting each other now serves no purpose."
"And later?" I challenged.
"Later... we do what we must." Her smile faded. "But for now, I'd rather have one person in this fortress who doesn't actively wish me dead. Wouldn't you?"
I studied her, searching for deception. I found none, only exhaustion and a bone-deep sadness that mirrored my own. Still, I couldn't afford to trust her completely. Not when my people's lives—and my promise to avenge Tariq—hung in the balance.
"I don't wish you dead," I conceded finally. "But that doesn't make us friends."
"No," Pavati agreed. "But perhaps it makes us something other than enemies. For now."
A knock at the door interrupted us. A servant entered, bowing low.
"The first challenge will begin at dawn tomorrow," she announced. "You are to rest and prepare yourselves. Food will be brought to you shortly."
After she left, Pavati and I exchanged glances.
"Beauty," she said, recalling Nahuel's words. "The first test is beauty. How barbaric."
"It's not about appearance," I replied, thinking aloud. "It can't be that simple."
"With the Alpha of Lamia, nothing is simple." Pavati lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. "We should rest while we can."
I nodded, though I knew sleep would elude me. My mind was too full. Of grief for my brother, fear for my people, hatred for Nahuel.
There was confusion though. Confusion about Koda.
Why had he saved me? Why call himself Riven? What game was he playing?
And how could the goddess be so cruel as to bond me to the son of my enemy?
As if reading my thoughts, Pavati spoke again, her voice soft in the dimming light.
"The mate bond is a tricky thing, isn't it? It doesn't care about vendettas or loyalties."
I froze. "What are you talking about?"
She was indeed observant. Too observant. Definitely the kind of woman I did not want as an enemy. Yet.
Pavati turned her head to look at me, her expression knowing. "I saw your face when he appeared. And his when he looked at you. I know the signs."
"You're mistaken," I said, the words stiff.
"Am I?" She sighed. "It doesn't matter. Your secret is safe with me. Like I said, I'd rather have one person here who doesn't wish me dead."
I said nothing, unwilling to confirm or deny her suspicions.
After a while, Pavati's breathing deepened as she drifted to sleep. I envied her that peace, however temporary.
I sat at the small window, watching as twilight descended over the Lamia territories. Somewhere in this fortress, Koda—my mate, my enemy—was preparing for tomorrow's challenge. Somewhere, Nahuel was plotting new ways to make us suffer for his entertainment.
And somewhere far away, my people waited, hoping their princess would save them.
I touched the window's cold stone, imagining I could feel Whitewater's forests through the distance.
I missed home.